The Descent

[3]

I am an atheist. A true atheist. Reality weighs heavily upon my chest. At one point in my life, I tired of the pretensions of God, of God himself, and of my own humanity. And I aspired. I aspired for something nobler, something neither divine nor human that I could, somehow, become. Something that would take away the sameness of being a man, just another man.

Still, reality weighs heavily upon my chest, as I seem to lose my grip upon it, becoming further disillusioned, hollow and pensive, becoming mad. Mad. I am a troubled man.

I do remember the exact moment of my birth. Oh, yes I do. Oh, yes I do. It was at one o’clock in the morning, on May thirtieth, 1966. I remember the doctor pulling me out of my mother’s womb. And  I remember asking him politely, as our eyes briefly met, to put me back where he had found me, or, at least, to have the decency to kill me, rather than force upon me the unchosen ordeal of life. But, it seems that the doctor misconstrued my gurglings for insults, for he proceeded to slap me as hard as he possibly could have on the ass. I know this for a fact. I can still feel the pain more than twenty eight years later, and I can still taste the tears. I have to admit: I am a very sensitive man.

The veil was lifted, but the fogginess remained, laden with alienation and sweat. I couldn’t tell where I was, and I didn’t care to know, for wherever I happened to be, it wasn’t home, and that was all that mattered. The veil came down, I willed it down.

Sounds and voices, all unfamiliar, tickled my ears; the veil was lifted again so that my eyes could see. And my eyes did see. They saw a nose whisking by, an eyebrow dancing against a yellow background, and a giant mouth that approached and swallowed me, its breaths searing yet sweet. Darkness returned, and with my mind’s eye, I witnessed the lowering of the veil, and, this time, I cried.

Awareness came back to my sleepy-eyed mind like a revelation. Its  eye was open, but my eyes remained closed: I was being caressed by many a wet hand, and pieces of cloth - I was being washed. The hands felt soft and feminine against my nakedness, I was both aroused, and embarrassed. And my eyes remained closed. And my eyes remained closed.

Behind the veil, I saw my parents in a dream, and I was aware that it was only a dream, we where sitting at the dinner table eating something hot and delicious, perhaps tusqiyah, my favorite garbanzo dish, I couldn’t be sure. My paternal grandmother, having somehow returned from the dead, a usual occurrence in my dreams, was sitting with us, I think she was the one who prepared our dinner this evening, she was a good cook, becoming a good cook was the only real advantage a woman can derive from traditional upbringing, and Tehteh had made the most of it.

We all chatted as we ate, and despite my active participation in the conversation, and despite the uproarious laughter that I burst into ever so often, I failed to understand a single word that was being said, and that was the end of my dream. And again the veil was lifted.  My eyes were open:

I gazed upon the smiling face that hovered on top of me, too close to me as if to share my breaths, I gazed upon it, with a sense of annoyance and fascination. It was a woman’s face, a beautiful woman’s face, a brunette’s face. She said her name was Eve. <How appropriate.> I thought. <How very appropriate.>

“Eve!” I said. “Eve, you’re suffocating me, do you mind...” And I gestured with my hands.

“By your command, ingrate.” Eve’s words sounded angry, but her tone was playful. A playful Eve, I wonder...

“This would not be by any chance the Garden of Eden, would it?” I asked expecting a giggle and a playful denial. Instead, I got a long silence, then...

“No, no, this possibility has been ruled out a longtime ago, quite a longtime ago.” Eve’s tone was now serious and sad, and, for some reason, it made me angry.

“Then where the hell am I? And who the hell are you really?” And what the hell have you done with my parents? I almost added.

“As for who I am, I am exactly who I said I am,” Eve’s voice has turned cold and stern, “I am Eve, as in Adam and Eve, the Adam and Eve. And as for where we are...well, we were hoping that you’ll be the one to tell us.”

Now, it was my turn to remain silent, or rather...Jibrîl, Iblîs, what the hell is happening to me? What is this place? Who is this woman? We don’t know. But, for what it’s worth, she seems to be telling the truth.

The truth? The truth? But the woman is saying that she is Eve, as in Adam and Eve, the Adam and Eve. If I am going to believe in such rubbish, I might a swell believe in God again. My anger was mounting, and it was directed against everybody and everything.

How many times do I have to tell you that this is not an ordinary place? Isn’t it about time you accepted my word, isn’t it about  time you had just a little bit of patience to wait things out, to ponder your situation? Have you tried this lately? Have you? Well, well, well, Iblîs was definitely pissed off, and for a good reason: he was definitely right. Iblîs was right.

My anger quickly fizzled into nothingness, and was replaced by serenity.

“Eve,” I said, “Eve, I have to admit that I am quite confused. I don’t know where I am, and I am much too afraid to believe that you are whom you say you are; for you see, to believe that you are Eve, the Eve, implies the existence of God, and I have reconciled myself to atheism for more than a year now. And I won’t believe again without a clear proof. Can you prove that you are Eve? Can you prove that God exists?”

“No, I can’t.” Eve’s voice has softened, and has regained some of its earlier playfulness. “But, tell me, how did you come here from the normal world?”

“I came on Burâq’s back.” I replied realizing clearly what Eve’s argument was going to be.

“And doesn’t the existence of Burâq itself imply the existence of God to you?” She asked.

“Yes, it does.” I replied, over the objections of Iblîs.

“Still, you seem to have accepted the existence of Burâq, without revoking your atheism. How come?”

I noticed at this moment that Eve looked quite young for a woman who was over six thousand years old, in fact, she looked like a woman in her early to mid twenties, this and the way she pursed her lips as she spoke the last few of words, coupled with her playful tone and gestures, proved quite intoxicating for me, and I found myself hoping, celibacy notwithstanding, that her hands had taken part in washing me during my...whatever it was.

Then I remembered that, if I were to believe her,  Eve was my mother. Suddenly, I thought of Freud.

“Well, at first I thought of it as an alien life-form.” I said. “Oh, how interesting!” Eve interjected. How interesting indeed! Eve seemed quite at ease with the concept of alien life-forms. What did that say about her credibility in my mind? It boosted it, I’m afraid, it actually boosted it!

“Then I thought of it as a hallucination...” Oh really, and when, if I may ask was that? Iblîs was still upset I could tell, I, however, Oomph, did not care. “The fact that I seemed to have passed out in the Sûq does retrospectively lend some support to this hypothesis. Don’t you think?”

By now, I was sitting upright in the bed, surveying my surroundings with a certain feeling of unease. The bedroom was quite big, in fact, it was a cross between a bedroom and a living room, lavishly decorated in a traditional Damascene style, with certain temporal incongruities, such as a large television set that can be clearly seen from every corner in the room; also, there was a video that seemed to be part of the television set itself, and a cd player, yes, a cd player, with many cds in a cabinet nearby, and a couple of phones, one of them lay on a commode right next to my bed, while the other was located on a small wooden table near a large couch.

There was no doubt about it, Eve was rich in addition to being, or looking, young. Or, did all this belong to Adam? And where was the old geezer anyway?

Eve had noticed my interest in the room, so she remained silent all the while allowing me to finish my survey and to formulate my own thoughts. When I shifted my attention back to her, she gave me a genuine smile and...

“Well, I hope you liked the room, it’s yours as long as you want it, there’s a bathroom just down the hall, and my servants will see to your every need,  your every need.”

Did I detect a sexual connotation in these last words? Of course I did, but I ignored them, as Eve continued.

“But meanwhile, I want you to lay back, relax and listen to this story that should help you to have a firmer grasp of your situation.” That was exactly what I wanted and  needed, that would definitely prove to be the cure to my... ailment. So, without muttering a word, I did what I was told to do, I lay down in the bed, closed my eyes and listened to Eve’s soft words with every fiber in my being. Yes Tehteh, go on and tell me one of your delightful little stories. I’m all ears.

“We all came here on Burâq’s back. Who are we? We are the prophets, the saints, and all other historical characters that figured prominently in the making of the monotheistic tradition in the Fertile Crescent, and the rest of the world. Some of us have been here for just a few years, others, like me, have spent thousands, yet, we never grow old, we never die, and, to make matters even more interesting, we all became young the moment we set foot in this place.

And what is this place? Well, for obvious reasons, at first, each one of us thought that this was a piece of Paradise. Boredom, and the total absence of God forced us in time to reconsider. We are still reconsidering, and as I told you earlier, we were hoping that you would be able to clear a few things for us, and perhaps you still can, after all you are an unusual specimen. Why? Because you seem to have come here while still alive, none of us came here alive, we all came after our death in the normal world and were giving life again here, at least this is what Burâq told us, and we can’t afford to doubt him if we want to retain our sanity.

Still, there is a more important reason why we should consider you a unique specimen, and by the way, I hope you don’t find this term insulting, I’m only using it because that’s how we came to describe ourselves. Anyway, you’re unique primarily, because Burâq told us nothing of significance about you. Usually, he announces his plans to bring someone new ahead of time, he tells us where the newcomer should be lodged, and he gives us a summary, a resume if you will, of the newcomer’s career. There will also be a TV program about him. There is no such resume or program in your case. In fact, we don’t even know your name. But you’ll have a chance to tell it to me this evening when we have dinner together, if you were up to it.”

Oh, he will be, madam, I’m quite sure he will be...Oomph.

“Meanwhile, you should lie down and relax, Thurayyâ, who will be your personal servant in my house, assigned to you  by her request, will bring you your lunch soon. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, after all you are the one who asked for it during your... hallucinations.”

That was the conclusion of Eve’s puzzling speech. I kept my eyes closed as I heard her footsteps backing away from my bed, and I heard the door to my room as it opened, and...”Oh, yeah, by the way, if you’re wondering about Adam, we’re... how shall I put it? Divorced, yeah, that’s it, we’re divorced. But we’re still friends, he does visit me every now and then, so you will have a chance to see him if you’re interested, and something tells me that you would be.” There was a brief pause, and then I heard the door as it was closed. And I felt trapped.

After three years of my birth, my mother put me in a cage for two    more   years. It was a nice-looking cage as far as I can recall, a combination Maronite nunnery and boarding school located in the small Lebanese village of Riyaq. My earliest memories date to this period and this place. The first feminine figure in my life, therefore, was not my mother, or any of my grandmothers for that matter, it was, rather, Soeur Danielle, the right hand assistant of La Grande Mére, and my roommate. Yes, my roommate.

Danielle and I...?, sorry, Soeur Danielle and I slept in the same small and crammed cloister, in two different beds, of course, separated by a wooden screen, throughout my entire stay in the nunnery. What does that make her to me? I can’t say. All I know is that almost every night she used to throw me a bag of delicious candy over the wooden screen, and that our...relationship, for the lack of a better word, made all other children extremely jealous of me. I was not a popular figure in school, and this proved to be the beginning of a pattern.

Another aspect to my relationship with Soeur Danielle, the darker and more defining aspect in fact, demonstrates itself in her ability to beat the hell out of me, without any visible signs of remorse, for the slightest misbehavior on my part. I remember running around her one day, as she held my left hand and beat me with a long and thick cane on my legs, over and over again, the narrow hallways echoing my cries; other children observed, with a sense of... either gloom or glee, in their eyes, I couldn’t tell.

The frequency of the beatings compelled me to complain repeatedly to my parents whenever they came to visit me bearing gifts. This and the pleas of my paternal grandmother, who was a traditional Muslim woman, finally convinced my, at the time at least, agnostic parents to take me out of the nunnery and entrust me to the care of Tehteh. It did not take Tehteh long before she managed to cajole, with her genuine love and compassion,  and her more sophisticated sense of discipline, the Christian out of me, and to install a sense of Islamic belonging deep within my psyche.

Thurayyâ came into the room, almost an hour after Eve’s exit, with the tray of my culinary salvation in her hands, and an all-too-eager hop in her steps. She was another beautiful brunette, but she seemed to be more...how should I put it, liberated? Modern? Or, is  it common? For instead of the long black Moroccan robe with gold embroidery that Eve wore, she was clad in a simple black jeans, and a bluish T-shirt, tight enough for her nipples to show. And what did  Eve say? She said that Thurayyâ was assigned to me “by her own request.” Hmm...

Praying mantis, praying mantis, think of the praying mantis. Thanks Jibrîl, I needed that. My pleasure.

“Thurayyâ, I presume.” I said while adjusting the way I sat in the bed.

“You presume correctly sir.” She said with a smile, and as she laid the special tray on the bed over my legs, she added: “Lunch is served.” Great. I thought. Another playful brunette. Perhaps you were brought here to lose your virginity, and if you ask me, it’s about t... Oomph!

“So Thurayyâ, tell me how long have I been...indisposed?” I asked as I devoured the first spoonful of tusqiyah, and imbibed half the amount of freshly squeezed orange juice that lay in the wooden cup in front of me.

“Two days and three nights.” She said confirming the count with her fingers, and surprising the hell out of me. I simply didn’t think I was...out of it for so long. No wonder I was so hungry.

Few silent minutes passed as I continued to gulp my tusqiyah and orange juice, and took a couple of bites of the large piece of kunafa that lay in a separate plate. Thurayyâ watched me intently as if I were performing some amazing act of heroism, but I didn’t mind. In fact, I was flattered, as ridiculous as this might seem. And why not, it’s not always that one can have such an appreciative and beautiful audience. I wonder…

“Thurayyâ, I seem to remember being washed during my... semi-coma, did this actually take place, or was I just dreaming?” Well, I had to know.

“It did actually happen,” Thurayyâ said bestowing upon me a knowing smile, I hated knowing smiles, “and if you really want to know,” she continued, “it was Eve and I that did the washing.”

WARNING! WARNING! A HORMONAL RUSH IS THREATENING THE CHEMICAL BALANCE IN THE BRAIN SECTOR. SEXUAL SUPPRESSION MECHANISMS ARE BEING ACTIVATED. STAND BY FOR COUNTDOWN. THREE, TWO, ONE, COMMENCE! The surge passed. My sexual suppression mechanisms were not even strained. The situation was under control.

Thanks Jibrîl. You’re most welcome sir, but I did it for both of us. Thanks nonetheless.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed yourselves.” I said to Thurayyâ feigning displeasure. But that didn’t fool her, not for a second.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, “it was, as they say, a dirty  job, but someone had to do it.” She was playing along. Good. Flirtation was one of the two sexual exercises that I engaged in, every now and then, the other one, of course, was masturbation. Yet even so, I needed to ask Thurayyâ some serious questions.

“Men could have undertaken this awful responsibility, I guess, but, to be honest, I feel much better knowing that it was you and Eve that took care of it.” That was a necessary transitional clause, now I could be more direct. “But, on a different note, Thurayyâ, I need to ask you some serious questions. Do you mind?”

“Certainly not,” she replied as she made herself more comfortable on the chair that lay beside my bed, “ask away, I’ll answer you to the best of my abilities.”

“Nice to know,” I said, “and my questions should not prove to be difficult, really. Judge for yourself, my first question is: who are you really? According to Eve, you should be a notable historical figure, yet, I don’t recall offhand any notable Thurayyahs from my readings in history.”

“Well,” she replied, “Thurayyâ is not my real name. My real name, which you should be able to recognize, is Râbi’ah.”

“Râbi’ah, as in Râbi’ah al-’Adawiyyah or Râbi’ah bint Ismâ’îl?” I asked without being as surprised as I probably should have.

“The former,” she said as an expression of extreme dismay was imposed on her round face. I didn’t need Iblîs to tell me that there was something wrong here, neither did I need his advice that I’d better not dwell upon it at this stage, but he told me and advised me, anyway. So there!

“And why the name change, Râbi’ah?” I asked.

“Because I am not that woman anymore. Râbi’ah loved God and no one else, because she thought that loving anyone other than God would constitute a betrayal. Thurayyâ, on the other hand, feels that she was the one who was betrayed, betrayed by her reason, by her intuition, by her very conscience...”

I don’t think she likes us Jibrîl. Well, you know, sometimes I think our possessor himself doesn’t like us either. And you know what Jibrîl? You just might be right. So shut up both of you.

“Thurayyâ is as atheistic as you are.”

“Good. I certainly do appreciate being bathed by an atheist.” That brought a smile to Thurayyâ’s face. “And you might be interested to know that your introduction into atheism was very much similar to mine. I, too, was married to God, I thought of Him as a woman with a long flowing beard...”

“May I assume then that you’re attracted to hairy woman?” Thurayyâ interjected, her smile growing wider.

“No,” I replied emphatically, “just God, and only when I believed in Him, of course. Anyway, I, too, felt betrayed, and that was the beginning of a long spiritual crisis. Months passed, during which I defined and redefined my faith countless of times, before I finally decided, on December twelfth, 1992, at four twenty three in the evening, to declare myself an atheist.

But that was not, unfortunately, the end of my crisis, the crisis which, at this stage, I began to define as being one of identity, rather than of the spirit, to suite my new atheistic temperament. But becoming an atheist, naturally, did signal the turning of a new page in my life, and I felt freer than I’ve ever had, and although, my life plans did not drastically change, if at all, this feeling of liberation from the tyranny of faith, did empower me as nothing else before.”

That was a long speech, a speech which I did not plan to make, and which made me feel quite stupid now that I had made it. Whatever happened to my self-control, Jibrîl? Why am I telling a complete stranger things I wouldn’t even tell you.

Well, Maybe because she is a complete stranger, a stranger who is listening quite attentively to you. Sometimes, as I keep reminding you often, an outsider’s perspective could be quite helpful. So why don’t you shut up and listen to her, she’s speaking. Oomph.

“I don’t think I’ve felt empowered since I set foot in this place, and unlike you, my identity crisis is resolved...well, at least it had been before you came. But now that you are here, and despite the fact that you seem to be as confused as we are about this place, you give me, and everybody here, a sense of hope, a hope that we may finally find answers to some long-standing questions. Some of us will hate you for that, by the way.”

Thurayyâ was in a very thoughtful mood now, still she managed to smile as she asked me whether I had any further questions. I did, and one of them should have been about the meaning of her last comment, but, somehow, I managed to overlook it. It made sense, somehow, so I overlooked it.

“Well, in a way you answered all of my questions, except one: why are you a servant of Eve? I would have thought that people like you would treat each other equally more or less.”

“That shows how naive you are. Eve was right.” I was going to ask her what her last comment was supposed to mean, but she silenced me with a forcible gesture, and...

“Look, as soon as it dawned upon us that we were not in Paradise, and, of course, this was not a simultaneous process, for as you know we arrived here at different times, but as soon as it dawned upon each of us that this was not Paradise, we returned to our all-too-human ways, we built institutions, we established relationships of all different kinds, relationships that soon became unequal, simply because we had different talents, different skills, and, of course, different levels of performance, not to mention different ambitions, and dispositions.

In short, the very same things that led to inequality in the normal world, went into operation here. So I am now a servant of Eve, so what, tomorrow I might become her mistress, and so we treat each other like friends really, except at certain occasions when it’s better to maintain the appearance of a hierarchical relationship.

And this is all I’m ready to say for now, because you are still weak, and you need to take a nap. I’ll wake you up at six, that will give you an hour to prepare yourself for dinner. OK?”

This was an abrupt ending to a very enlightening speech, but I didn’t mind, because Thurayyâ was right, I was tired, and sleepy. So I nodded my consent to Thurayyâ, and, then, as she headed towards my bedroom door balancing the salvific tray on her left hand and arm, I suddenly remembered her dismay at the mention of Râbi’ah bint Ismâ’îl, and...

“Thurayyâ, there’s one last thing I want to ask you about.” And before she had the chance to protest, I immediately proceeded to pose the question. “It’s about Râbi’ah bint Ismâ’îl, I noticed that you.. .how can I put it? That you were not pleased when I mentioned her name, why is that?” I expected her to tell me that it was none of my business, that it was a personal matter, instead, she turned briefly towards me with a sad smile on her face and said:

“It’s a long story, somewhat, you can ask Eve about it during dinner, she’ll tell you. But now, you should go to sleep.” And she left the room.